Cupid and Psyche
by just delete this account
Summary: He always thought of Psyche as dumb for sleeping with and falling for someone who pretty much kidnapped her and who she couldn't even see. He always thought that such a thing was too stupid to happen.


Yay! Third person ever to write a fanfic for The Child Thief! AND I'm also the second person ever to write a Nick/…someone…that you would most probably figure out in a few minutes, fic! I wonder why no one else seemed to be writing fics for child thief even though I know it has plenty of fans out there.

Anyway, this is just a short, (in my opinion) not well written oneshot, written out of sheer boredom and the need to have more Nick x ….person(you'll find out XD) fics out there. I didn't put as much thought into this as I usually do for my stories so I apologize if you end up resenting it.

Ok, disclaimers, I own nothing!

If I did, then Sekeu, Nick and Redbone would all still be ALIVE

WARNINGS: Shounen-ai and if you don't like anime or manga, that means BOYXBOY boy love, boys kissing, etc. and if you disapprove greatly about that sort of thing, I suggest you turn back RIGHT. NOW.

Still here?

Alright, don't say I didn't warn you. XD

* * *

There he was again.

As always, he didn't hear any footsteps or the rustle of clothes or any other sound that indicated movement. _He_ was always careful to make sure that no one would hear him walking about in the middle of the night. However, after the third or fourth time, Nick developed some sort of inner alarm that told him whenever he was there.

It was his presence, he didn't know how he sensed it, didn't know how it always seemed to pull him out of the world of sleep, but it just did.

He felt the presence get closer and kept his eyes dutifully closed when he heard the twine that kept the door of his cage closed, being unwound. His heart began to race, as it often did, when he heard the barely audible creak that indicated the opening of the door.

Nick stayed perfectly still, save for his chest, which rose and fell steadily with each of his breaths and resisted the urge to open his eyes and grab him when he felt his hands brushing his hair away from his face. Rough, callused fingers glided, feather light over his eyelids, his cheeks, his nose and finally his lips.

He always touched them last, and he always lingered over them before…

As he often did, Nick dug his fingers into his leg when he felt warm lips press themselves against his.

_This_ has been happening for a few weeks now, or at least he thought it's been a few weeks, it's hard to even separate day from night in devil tree. But anyway, it's happened so many times now, always late at night, when everyone including the pixies, were asleep, that he really assumed it's been going on for weeks.

The lips that were pressed against his began moving over his closed mouth, caressing it in delicate strokes and Nick dug his fingers further into his leg, thankful for the bite of his nails against his skin, for it distracted him from wanting so damn much to respond.

_This_ boy, he knew for a fact that he was a boy, because even though all of the girls in this place had hands as callused and rough as all the boys, once, Nick heard him utter a hum/sigh that definitely wouldn't have belonged to a girl. Anyway, this boy had been sneaking out of his cage every night and was stupid enough to think that Nick would stay asleep while he did this to him.

At first it was just harmless, feather light touches on his face and he once thought that he had been dreaming them, but when the kissing began, he realized that someone among the many twisted(not that they didn't have redeeming qualities) kids in devil tree had a thing for him and had enough guts to molest his mouth in his sleep.

Now, you're probably wondering, why wasn't he doing anything to stop this?

Well, if he had a good answer, he'd tell you.

A warm puff of breath ghosted over his lips as the kissing suddenly stopped and Nick's fingers twitched as the strange longing to have them back shot through his veins like a jolt of lightning. He supposed he should be bothered that he was actually _enjoying_ this. But for the same reason that he didn't open his eyes or push his admirer away the first time he realized what he was doing, he wasn't.

A warm hand pressed itself against his cheek and Nick resisted the urge to sigh and lean into it.

The warmth was a welcome comfort, though if it was just comforting in itself or because out here, in this sick hell hole, comfort was as non-existent and sought after as stars, he didn't know.

It wasn't so much that it was a boy, than it was that he just _lets_ him do whatever he pleased, without knowing who the hell he was that bothered Nick. Marco and all his bastard friends, not to mention several people at school called him a faggot and he never gave them the satisfaction of knowing but… they were half right. (Perhaps even _completely_ now.) He never really figured out which gender held attraction for him and he still hasn't…he thinks. Because from the time Marco showed up in his life up to now, he's been too busy trying to stay _alive_ to bother with trying to figure out his sexuality. So yes, sexuality aside, that was what bothered him.

It bothered him that he was taking comfort in the touches and kisses of a stranger.

It bothered him that he was being too trusting in a world where no one and nothing would hesitate to kill him the millisecond he lets his guard down.

And most of all, it bothered him that he cared enough about this, whatever this was, that he was afraid of losing it.

That's why he never opened his eyes and that's why he always took great care not to move any part of his body. Because he was afraid that the second he did, whoever this person was, that he leeched comfort from, would go away forever.

He felt, more than he heard him shift and a second later, he felt a warm, solid weight settle on top of his torso. A face buried itself in his shoulder and Nick wanted to lift his arms and hold this person, touch him, smell his hair or some other, stupid, sappy thing. He just wanted to affirm for himself that he was there, that he was real. He wanted to feel out of his own free will, that there was somebody there, somebody that he could cling to like the child he really is.

_He_ was like a lifeline made out of sharp blades. Nick needed him to keep him sane, or at least sane enough to keep fighting for his life so he could get out of here and go home. But he couldn't really use him, all he could do was lie there and relish each light touch of callused fingers or warm lips. Affection was weakness and in the eyes of the devils, weakness is the deadliest thing of all, not just for one, but for all of them and Nick assumed that if anyone, even if it was just Nick himself who knew about this person's fixation with him, he'd be ashamed and terrified and he would never even _look_ at Nick again.

Light, short kisses were being pressed into the side of his neck now and Nick clenched the hand digging into his leg into a fist.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought about this ancient myth that he learned a long time ago in school. It was something about Cupid and his wife, whatever her name was. Psyche was it? Yeah, her. He couldn't really recall the whole story but he did remember what made it stand out the most. Psyche was so beautiful and Aphrodite, got jealous so she ordered Cupid to make her fall in love with the ugliest, most pathetic man on the planet. But Cupid fell in love with Psyche so instead of doing what Aphrodite asked him to, he kept her and married her secretly. He never showed himself to her and he never told her who he was because if he did, then it'd surely be the end of their relationship. No one, absolutely no one could know that he was married to Psyche.

Every night he would come to her bed and the two of them made love in the dark. Even if she couldn't see him, she fell in love with him and Cupid made her promise never to try and see his face or else, he'd have to go away forever.

He always thought of Psyche as dumb for sleeping with and falling for someone who pretty much kidnapped her and who she couldn't even see. He always thought that such a thing was too stupid to happen.

Isn't it just so damn frikkin ironic that he got to see first hand how wrong he was?

But then again, Psyche wasn't stuck in a world where murder was a part of every day life and sanity is just a single thread dangling a thousand feet up in the air above a raging river of bloodlust and savagery. Plus, she wasn't a feeble 14 year old boy who was desperate for even the tiniest shred of assurance or feelings of safety to hold him to reality and keep him from going insane.

Nick felt him exhale softly against his jaw before he practically jumped out of his skin when he felt a tongue lightly flick itself against his skin. The action sent a jolt of pleasure straight down to his groin and being the hormonal 14 year old that he was, it was all he could do not to sit up, pin down whoever was doing this to him, and pay him back with every single touch and every kiss he had ever given him.

His self control got stretched paper thin when he felt that tongue on his lips but just as he felt like another kiss could make him snap, _he_ pulled away, leaving only the rapidly drying moisture on Nick's lips and the lingering feel of his presence as reminders that he had been there.

Nick barely heard it when the door to his cage got put back in place and he heard absolutely nothing, not even footsteps when he went away.

When he was sure that he couldn't feel his presence beside him anymore, Nick cracked one eye open. He let out a soft sigh through his nose when he saw that there was no one there and he rolled over to lie on his side. Now that he was gone, as he often did, Nick began to wonder who he was.

He wasn't Leroy that's for sure. Leroy was too big, clumsy and stupid to be as silent and careful as his nightly visitor. It wasn't Abraham either, because he was sure that his visitor had two hands.

He scoffed, and that just leaves like what? 20 other suspects?

As he thought this, a tiny, tiny voice in his head that had been there for as long as this has been happening but whom he just _refused_ to listen to, tried to speak up.

Agile, quick and cunning as they all were, he knew that _none_ of the devils could be as light and silent on their feet as his visitor, _except one_.

The one who could move like a shadow, undetected as he spied on troubled kids from the trees in the park, the one with wild, lynx-like eyes, freckles, messy red hair and a charmingly magnetic grin.

With a frown, Nick immediately squished the voice in his head and he laid an arm over his eyes.

It couldn't be him.

It just couldn't.

He was the reason he was even trapped in this shit hole in the first place. If it _was_ him…

Nick clenched his eyes shut and pressed his arm harder against them.

Maybe he just shouldn't think about it.

* * *

The next morning, Peter was actually there. Usually he'd only show up at dinner, sometimes with another new blood (Nick liked to call them, sorry ass suckers) and most of the devils crowded around him during breakfast, like they often did whenever he actually bothered to join them.

Nick tried to ignore how everyone else fawned over the pointy eared bastard like over excited fan girls, which was no easy feat considering said bastard conveniently decided to sit right _next_ to him.

He spent most of breakfast, debating with himself whether or not Peter did it on purpose just to piss him off and he would've been completely content, lost in his thoughts but unfortunately he was pulled out of his stupor when he absently moved his hand to swat at a random pixie and wound up, hitting Peter's hand by accident.

Even when their fingers only brushed for a second, he felt how callused and rough the skin of his hand was and the feeling sent a jolt of excitement and fear down his spine.

_Agile, quick and cunning as they all were, he knew that none of the devils could be as light and silent on their feet as his visitor_, _except one_.

_**Except one**_

He turned to peter as a reflex reaction and when his eyes made contact with those weird gold ones, he could swear that his heart stuttered in fear.

_If it _was_ him…_

He looked away with a bit more force than necessary, making his long, dark bangs fall over his eyes.

No, it couldn't be him.

Besides, he remembered that in the story, Psyche did end up getting curious enough to actually break her promise to cupid and look at his face. He remembered that Cupid went away after that. She fucked everything up by knowing.

He wasn't going to be like her.

* * *

Ahh, Cupid and Psyche, my favourite mythology of all time.

I've been waiting forever to write something about it. Now that I have, I hope that the plot bunny population in my head would decrease by one XD.

I was itching to put references to 1984, and Philosophy in there but Nick wouldn't ever talk about things like that XDD. Besides, he's 14. Usually, one is forced to read 1984 when they're in their junior-senior year in high school XD

Hmm…I might end up deleting this later, maybe not.

But if I do delete it, I'll try to write another, better one ^^


End file.
